


Dionysus

by necroesthe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Twincest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:47:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23425732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necroesthe/pseuds/necroesthe
Summary: There are concessions to be made when dating Miss Granger.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley/George Weasley
Comments: 16
Kudos: 59





	1. Year One - Rated T

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FOR LUSH!!! THANK YOU FOR LISTENING AND TAKING PART IN MY ENDLESS HP RAMBLING, AND JOINING ME ON THE ISLAND OF HERMIONE/WEASLEY TWINS LOLI TWINCEST!!! ITS A VERY NICHE INTEREST + DYNAMIC, SO THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME COMPANY ;A;
> 
> This will be a ficlet collection of the relationship between Hermione and the Weasley Twins throughout the years! Plot is nonexistent and self indulgence is plentiful! It is also non-chronological! Each chapter may have a different rating! Be warned!!!!

“Kiss each other.”

The Weasley twins recoiled as if struck. Hermione immediately let out a breath of relief. They had boxed her against a wall with their lanky arms, faces so close to hers that she could almost count each eyelash, and it was _overwhelming._ Their breaths had smelled of mint because Hermione had mentioned her penchant for mint during an earlier conversation; it reminded her of her parents and her parents were dentists, straighten and whiten and pull and _don’t look at me like that, they’re just doctors. Think of Madame Pomphrey or Phillipus Aureolus Theophrastrust Bombastus von Hohenheim or —_

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me,” Hermine crossed her arms, chin up as she tried to ignore her pounding heart, and the blood rushing to the tips of her fingers and toes, making her lightheaded. “Kiss each other.”

Fred and George goggled at her. Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. 

“You two kept arguing about who gets to kiss me first, and that isn’t fair.”

“How — “ Fred sputtered.

“How isn't that fair?” George finished.

Hermione sniffed, her cheeks a voracious red. “There’s two of you and only one of me.”

In reality, she was stalling. What if her breath smelled? What if her lips were chapped? 

What if she was _bad?_

She had seen people kiss: her parents, movie actors, that annoying couple back home who loitered in the library for private time. She had also read about kissing, a subject impossible to escape in the wild and wondrous world of literature. 

But reading and noticing doesn’t mean she can do it. What if she’s worse at kissing than she is at _flying?_

Fred and George’s lips thinned. They still looked unconvinced. 

“Which means,” Hermione quickly continued. “I have to deliver _two_ kisses while both of you only give _one_.”

“Why don’t you give us both two then?” George asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Because then I’ll be giving four while you two only give two. So no matter how many kisses I provide,” Or rather, they take. “It will never even out. So both of you need to kiss. For fairness.”

“For fairness,” Fred clenched his fists.

“For fairness,” Hermione repeated.

She thought incest was supposed to be common in the wizarding world. Hermione had thrown herself into research after being called a mudblood and traced the family trees of all the bloodlines in England. Brothers coupled with sisters in the Gaunts and a plethora of cousins married cousins within the Blacks and Malfoys. Even the Weasleys were part of this incestual, genome stew; Fred and George had no right to be acting this way.

Hermione sniffed. “I won’t kiss you unless you kiss each other first.” 

The ultimatum stilled Fred and George and the air surrounding them all. Hermione grew aware of the sweatiness of her palms, the scalding blood gushing through her veins, the lightheadedness that filled her skull and threatened to lift her off the ground. Her heart pounded as if to break through her ribs and escape.

Fred’s knuckles were bone white, nails undoubtedly digging into the soft flesh of his palm. George’s slightly depressed left cheek indicated he was gnawing on the inside of his cheek. Their blue eyes were stormy, and both clenched their jaws, causing a small ripple across their skin. 

Their tics were fascinating, simultaneously revealing their similarities and differences. 

Hermione’s breath hitched. 

Fred, ever the more daring twin, ever the more bold twin, ever the _older_ twin, darted forward. He moistened his lips with a quick flick of his tongue and pressed them against George’s mouth. No, not pressed. He _brushed._ He brushed his lips against his brother’s, soft and quick and almost not there, impossibly light and gentle. 

He drew back, cheeks flushed, and snickered. “You call that a kiss, Forge? You’re going to make Hermione _weep.”_

George, equally red, threw his head back and laughed loudly. “I’m saving my energy for her. Can’t you tell, _Gred?_ ”

Hermione allowed them to snip at each other. Jokes were how they coped. This was no exception.

Eventually, she cleared her throat, lightheaded with excitement. “My kiss?”

Fred and George beamed and bounded over.

The tension was ignored.


	2. Year One - Rated T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The maturation of Hermione Granger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like everything has to be rated t bc rated k just isn't appropriate w/ incest xD

Hermione had never expected to get a boyfriend, much less two, in her first year.

She hadn’t planned for a relationship either. Her daddy told her no boys until college, but that became a moot point when she was accepted at Hogwarts. He amended it to “no boys until graduation.” Mum, however, was not as strict, and quietly told Hermione that she could date at 16.

16 was a reasonable age. Every movie and book protagonist engaged in a thrilling romance at 16, alongside an adventure that would determine the fate of the world. What came after saving the planet was a bit tricky, but romantic entanglement was already established, so Hermione shoved it aside.

15 was also reasonable because it was only one year less than 16. Her dad might be upset, but her mum would roll her eyes and tell him to calm down.

14 was almost reasonable; her parents would have mixed feelings, but they would eventually calm down. 13 would make them blow a gasket. Hermione didn’t even want to think about 12.

If anyone were to have gotten a boyfriend in their first year, it would have been Lavender and Parvati. They were absolutely crazy, spending their time pouring over  _ Witch Weekly  _ and swooning over their favorite section:  _ Wizard of the Week. _

Hermione had seen them at the library once, hunched over a table. Her heart had swelled at the idea of daft roommates taking an interest in more useful things, like the evolution of the cauldron or the several uses of unicorn horns. She was about to go over and initiate intellectual conversation, maybe even offer help, when she realized they were merely looking at ancient editions of  _ Witch Weekly _ .

Her heart sank.

Hermione chewed them out for wasting precious table space and swore to never believe in anyone again.

But, she justified, Lavender and Parvati’s state of boyfriendless stemmed from immaturity. They shared a bed at night because they were scared of the dark and spent extra time in the bathroom making soap bubbles and soap beards, pouting when Hermione refused to join them. She preferred to indulge in such activities in private, thank you very much.

Notwithstanding Parvati and Lavender, girls developed faster than boys. Millicent Bulstrode, for example, had breasts. It explained the butterfly patterned bra Hermione had spied during potions when Bulstrode had removed her robe. Her shirt, per uniform regulations, was white, and white tended to reveal everything beneath. Tracey Davis had hissed at Bulstrode when she noticed. Bulstrode immediately threw it back on, eyes wide and cheeks red. 

Hermione, on the other hand, had no bra scares. She was as flat as she had been when she was five, seven, and eleven, and therefore didn’t need one.

She developed mentally instead. Hermione had always been mature for her age, excelling in school and everything non-physical or music-related. Adults had cooed over her voracious appetite for books and provided praise whenever she did something exceptionally well. She always followed the rules, told teachers when others weren’t, and felt listened to when she spoke with adults. 

Hermione was mature and mature people could make their own decisions.

She had brainstormed the merits of dating Fred and George. Yes, they liked to prank people, and yes, they had detention every other night. But they always made sure she left their presence with a smile on her face, made sure she ate something (even though they nearly got banned from the library when a pastry wrapped in a napkin fell from Fred’s pocket in front of Madam Pince) and punished Ron whenever he put his foot in his mouth.

Hermione adored the excitement on their faces as they plotted and the bright look in their eyes when they explained the mechanics behind it. Their application of charms and transfiguration was interesting, intentionally achieving partial transfiguration to make something as odd as possible, then charming it to do whatever they desired. Hermione wasn’t exactly sure how they obtained potion ingredients or how they spiked the drinks in the great hall, but that was a mystery for another day.

Fred and George were kind. They saw past the stuck up swotty persona she had accidentally crafted and held her whenever the ostracization by her other year mates was too much too handle. They didn’t get mad when she lashed out and let her ramble about all the interesting things she has learned in class, even though it came off as condescending since they had already taken those classes. 

They teased her of course, but it was a result of their playful nature rather than a desire to harm. Hermione didn’t take offense and would rib them back. Good naturedly of course, because she wasn’t Ron (read: insensitive).

Fred and George were sweet. Fred and George were funny. Fred and George were  _ there. _

Of course Hermione would date them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4.09.20
> 
> I rewatched some of Ouran with friends and it's SO good. I immediately fell in love with Hikaru and Kaoru, something that didn't happen the first time I saw it. My taste is catching up! Hee hee.
> 
> (in other words red headed twins are the BEST)


	3. Year One - Rated M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night does not go as expected.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?” Hermione asked, pulling her robe tightly against her. The night air was unrepentant, aided by the height of the astronomy tower and the geographical location of Scotland. 

“Absolutely,” Fred grinned, wrapping an arm around Hermione’s shoulders. He hid his other hand behind his back and crossed his fingers. “Nothing but the most legal of legalities here!”

George, whose fingers were also crossed, sidled up to Hermione’s other side, warming her up. “Students are always allowed past curfew to use their telescope at the astronomy tower!”

“At three in the morning?” 

George nodded vigorously. “Especially at three in the morning.  _ Finite Incantatem. _ ”

He and Fred had set up the telescope before curfew and charmed it to clobber anyone who attempted to touch it. But now that they were here, such measures were no longer necessary, even though they ran into Professor Sinistra with a black eye, looking very  _ very _ cross. 

“Take a look,” Fred said, then conjured a bright pink footstool out of an astronomy textbook someone left behind. The flowers were a nice touch. George especially liked the sunflowers. 

Hermione wrinkled her nose but stepped on it anyway. She peered into the telescope. George held her, just to be safe.

“Jupiter!” Hermione chirped. “It’s the biggest planet, consisting mainly of gases, and has 79 moons. It’s used in divination. I helped Neville find it. He barely speaks in class and fumbles a lot. I’m not sure if he’s nervous, or thickheaded.”

“Aren’t you a beacon of kindness?” Fred said, laughing when Hermione swatted. “George, will you do the honors?”

“Of course, Fred.”

He coaxed Hermione off the footstool and adjusted the telescope. If he remembered right, first-year astronomy was focused mainly on the planets, their composition, relative size, and moons, and showed the major stars and constellations, like the North Star and Orion’s Belt and Ursa Major. Second-year still went over planetary information but discussed the moons more in-depth. Third-year decided constellations were still relevant, and slapped in the lesser-known celestial bodies, coupled with even  _ more _ moon stuff, which failed to be as entertaining as the timeless moon action.

George hoped there wouldn’t be anymore more moons in their fourth year, but Percy had whined about tidal waves two days ago during dinner. 

“Take another look,” Fred said as he flourished the telescope.

Hermione stilled. “I — I don’t recognize this one.”

“It’s a star cluster named Pleiades,” Fred answered. “It's a star cluster visible to the naked eye.”

“And it’s named after the seven daughters of the Titan Atlas,” George tweaked Hermione’s nose. She swatted him again. “It’s sacred third-year knowledge.”

“Very, very sacred.”

Hermione furrowed her brows. She looked at them pleadingly, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “Can you share more of your third-year knowledge?”

Fred and George grinned, 

“Of course, Miss Granger,” Fred said, pitching his voice to a falsetto in order to mimic Professor Sinistra. “Now let us begin with Praesepe, which is also visible even with the naked eye…”

Eventually, George whipped out the picnic basket hidden behind the door. Fred spread the picnic blanket on the stone floor, and they feasted, consuming sandwiches and pastries and even more sandwiches. George played host, pouring water for Hermione and pumpkin juice for he and Fred because Hermione considered pumpkin juice too sugary.

Fred pulled Hermione’s leg by claiming he saw a shooting star, then having the audacity to say wish aloud. The wish wasn’t flattering, so Hermione punched Fred’s shoulder, smiling.

It was cozy. It was peaceful. It was sweet.

Hermione was Hermione.

“Can you two kiss for me?” She asked, splayed across both of their laps.

George jolted, accidentally yanking Hermione’s hair. He swore and rubbed soothing circles against that particular spot on her scalp. “Um, technically,” He bit the inside of his cheek. “Why?’

“Because it’s a romantic night,” She extended her arm and cupped George’s face. She traced his lips with the pad of her thumb, and George hated how innocent she looked, hair fanned behind her head like a halo. “The stars are out and we’re all bundled together. Don’t you feel it too?”

He felt as if he had a bucket of ice water dumped over his head, blood draining from his face. None of these things indicated that kissing his brother was the natural course of things, but he nodded anyway.

He shot Fred a pleading look, and Fred, equally pale and equally distressed, stepped up. George would have swooned if they weren’t related.

Fred swallowed. “I —- okay, then. Move?”

Hemione wiggled off their laps and settled down at the edge of the blanket. 

Fred scooted forward until their knees were touching. 

George gnawed the inside of his cheek and looked to the side. His stomach rebelled against him, churning and churning and churning. He felt sick. Not the kind of sick with the flu, but the kind of sick from the brain — from the spirit, the soul, the heart _. _ He took a shaky breath and willed the nausea away.

Fred leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. His breath fanned George’s lips, warm and smelling faintly of mint. Fred interlaced their fingers and squeezed. His hands were shaking. “You okay, dear brother of mine?”

George squeezed back. “Of course I am, my lesser half.” 

Fred appeared so confident, so sure of himself, even though he was from the same stalk as George. But George knew he wasn’t; they were two halves of a whole, after all.

His heart pounded as their lips slid together. Fred’s fingers curled around the back of his neck and in response, George weaved his fingers through his brother’s hair. The sickness doubled, tripled — but George kept his mouth against Fred’s, exchanging breath and spit.

It was the only thing keeping him steady as his brother kissed him. He was trapped in a vacuum of space with no sense of up or down or left or right. He was hot inside and out with a hint of nausea that made his stomach roll and roll and roll, full of butterflies and nerves and something else that made him tremble. 

Fred broke the kiss and trailed his lips across George’s jawline until he reached his ear. “Are you okay, Georgie?”

His hands fell to Fred’s shoulders. “Yeah,” he croaked. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

George dug his nails into Fred’s shoulders. “Keep — keep going.”

“If you say so,” Fred murmured, and pressed his mouth against George’s once more. He nipped George’s lip, and when George parted them slightly, sucked on his tongue. He was melting, spilling between Fred’s fingers. Lost in a haze of touch, and burning from Hermione’s gaze — George was picked and peeled like a specimen in potions that needed to be harvested. 

Heat pooled in his abdomen. His stomach kept rolling. Fred was holding him, trailing kisses down his neck and sucking on a patch of skin, hard enough to send blood to the spot. Fred was shoving him flat against the stone floor of the astronomy tower, hunched over him like a beast from the stories Mum would tell them to keep them inside at night. Fred was shushing him, removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, baring him to the night air, the stars, and Hermione. Fred was — 

The words were caught in his throat, trapped between the walls of his esophagus. His heart beat harder, faster, threatening to crack open his ribs. He wondered if Fred, with his fingers splayed over his chest, could feel it as well.

Bruises bloomed across his skin.

One word, he just had to say one word. The night air nipped at his exposed skin, at the trails of saliva Fred left when exploring the expanse of his chest and the curvature of his neck.

Fred breathed hot puffs of air against him, over his sternum. George’s stomach clenched.

One word.

The heat pooled and pooled. Fred left soft, open-mouthed kisses on his way down. George tightened his grip on his brother's hair.

_ One word. _

Fred pawed at his belt buckle and fumbled with the clasp. His hands were shaking,  _ his hands were shaking —  _ but Fred succeeded soon enough. He unbuttoned George’s trousers, unzipped his fly, and hooked his fingers in the waistband of boxers — 

“Stop,” Hermione said. 

Fred froze, and for an instant George hated her. He hated her for making them do this, he hated her for watching them, and he hated the ease she said that when he himself was unable to. 

His eyes burned. He threw his head back against the stone and looked up at the sky.

It wasn’t night time anymore. Pink invaded the sky's hue, and a piece of the sun peeked over the horizon. It was still dark, yes. But soon it wouldn’t be, and soon the night would be only a memory.

He barely registered his clothes being fixed, being guided back to the common rooms, and being tucked into bed. Hermione slipped away after kissing their foreheads and wishing them a goodnight. 

Yes, tonight would be a distant memory, but with Fred creeping under the covers, clinging onto him and mouthing apologies into his skin as Lee snored and snored, George wondered who needed to forget more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4.16.20 
> 
> oh man! i did not expect this to happen LMAO, but i cant say I'm disappointed hehe. its so fun to write this!! exciting!! 
> 
> feel free to find me on twitter @necroesthe ! i like to scream about ouran amongst other things .w<


	4. Year One - Rated K

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The near beginning.

Hermione had always been partial to insects and bugs.

Her mother had minored in entomology and decorated the study with a variety of creatures. Butterflies of all colors and sizes hung on the wall, a mosaic of human apathy towards small creatures, and a tarantula larger than her fist sat between the two matching plaques that were engraved with  _ Dr. Granger.  _

Emma tried to instill the same love by taking Hermione to the backyard and introducing her to the local fauna, but all Hermione learned was mild appreciation towards the grasshopper sitting on her lap and the spider crawling across her mum’s hand. 

Insects and bugs were simply part of life — essential to the ecosystem and interesting to look at.

Still, she didn’t expect to have a tarantula shoved into her face ten minutes into the train ride to Hogwarts. Soft pink hairs dusted its body, only tapering at the claws. It was a decent size, she supposed, as it fit in the boy’s hand.

“A Chilean Rose?” She asked.

“Got it in one,” The boy said. He pushed the tarantula closer to her and laughed when Neville whimpered. Hermione merely raised an eyebrow as Neville clutched her sleeve.

“You two are ickle firsties, I take it?”

“How — “

“Your robes are blank. Don’t worry, they’ll fill out once you're sorted. Anyway, I’m Lee,” He said. “And these two handsome lands,” He gestured to the two identical redheads peering over his shoulder. “Are Fred and George.”

Their Cheshire grins made Hermione’s blood boil.

“Surprised to see you again so soon, Miss Granger,” The right twin drawled.

“Were you searching for us?” 

“Or simply lost?”

Hermione huffed and ignored them. “I’m searching for a toad named Trevor. Have you seen him?”

“Can’t say we have — “

“ — But we can help you find him,” The left twin said. “Lee, are you up for a perilous adventure that may lead to expulsion or near-certain death?”

“Always, Forge,” Lee said.

“Great,” The right twin clapped his hands. “George and I will accompany Miss Granger.”

“This isn’t necessary — “ Hermione protested.

“While you lead Mister Longbottom.” George finished. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Lee put his tarantula on his shoulder and swung an arm around Neville, dragging him out the door. “Ready to find your toad, Longbottom?”

Neville whimpered.

When the compartment emptied, Hermione whirled around and jabbed Fred in the chest with a finger. He stumbled back. “You two are incorrigible,” She hissed. “I cannot believe the stunt two just pulled. I need to rescue him.”

She spun around, intent on stomping away. Fred hooked his finger over her collar and yanked her back.

“So rude, Miss Granger,” He tutted. “Is this really how you treat your saviors?”

“What saviors? All I see are devils insistent on making my life harder.”

George wrapped an arm around her shoulders and crooned. “You were so lost and confused in Diagon Alley, on the brink of tears, simply drowning in the current of back to school shoppers.”

“You tugged at our heartstring with your doe eyes — “

“ — And wobbling lips.“

“I wasn't crying,” Hermione snapped. 

“Maybe not one the outside,” George said.

“But inside you definitely were. And then your parents were  _ so _ delighted that we returned you to them safely — “

“ — That they treated us to Fortescue’s.”

Fred placed a hand on his cheek and sighed. “Only he could make beetle ice cream a delicacy.”

“That’s disgusting,” Hermione hissed, wriggling out of George’s grasp. “There was vanilla and chocolate and flaxseed, but you two selected  _ insect  _ flavored ice cream. Crickets? Really?”

“What can I say? They’re delicious,” George flicked her forehead, and expertly dodged Hermione’s snapping jaws. “What’s got you all riled up about it anyway? They’re just bugs.”

“Insects,” Hermione corrected, and didn’t know how to explain why the idea of masticating animated food items was immoral towards two people who were raised in a society where ripping the heads off squirming chocolate frogs was the norm. So she tried her best, and regurgitated that thought process while ending it with a succinct: “It’s the principle of things!”

Immobile things were fine to eat. Wiggling things were not.

George stroked his chin. “Hm.”

“Hm,” Hermione mocked.

“I think we must agree to disagree on this matter. George and I have been quartering our chocolate frogs since we learned what quartering was,” Fred said to the revulsion of Hermione. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Anyway, don’t we have a toad to find?”

“Indeed we do, my dear brother,” George copied the action. 

With Hermione sandwiched firmly between them, they dragged her into the next compartment and cooed at her protests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4.24.20
> 
> I spent an inordinate amount of time looking at images of tarantulas, and MAN did it give me the heebie jeebies. I won't scream if a spider crawls on me, but I will absolutely die a bit on the inside.  
> Also, OURAN HIGH SCHOOL HOST CLUB IS SOOOO AMAZING. I managed to make an irl friend watch some with me and he LOVED it and said the twins were cute!!! He was EXCELLENT taste. Redheaded twins are where it's at baby!!!! ^w^

**Author's Note:**

> 4.01.20
> 
> I can't believe it's Fred and Geroge's birthday today!! Whoa!!!


End file.
